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<title>do we just keep on pretending? (and hope our luck is never ending) by TooManyGaysTooLittleTime</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24611974">do we just keep on pretending? (and hope our luck is never ending)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooManyGaysTooLittleTime/pseuds/TooManyGaysTooLittleTime'>TooManyGaysTooLittleTime</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire &amp; Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:20:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,341</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24611974</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooManyGaysTooLittleTime/pseuds/TooManyGaysTooLittleTime</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Daenerys Targaryen, an A-list actress, who seems to be in every new film, hires Asha Greyjoy, with little to no qualifications, to be her PR manager. Suddenly Asha must learn to juggle her new responsibilities with her relationship with Daenerys.</p><p> </p><p>  <strong>on hiatus but might as well be an abandoned work at this point. if there’s enough interest i might continue and edit the current material + longer chapters but that Really can’t happen with only one person reading!!</strong></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Asha Greyjoy/Daenerys Targaryen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>do we just keep on pretending? (and hope our luck is never ending)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hiii danyara people!! this is totally self-indulgent because i love celebrity au’s and felt like writing one for them. hope y’all enjoy!</p><p>and i foolishly made it a multi chapter but *shrug* why not</p><p>(title is from <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/71D4LseR0RADPbyvMeTIHR?si=WkJCUQf-Rmi4OXJA6RAJXA">can’t stand me now by the libertines</a>)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Part of Asha’s wall has fallen off, the plaster dust whitening the carpet. She sighs and pulls out the change she has at the moment. Nope, not enough for repairs. Five dollars and forty cents is barely worth anything any more. She could buy a coffee, but that’s just about it. </p><p>“Hey, Asha?” Theon calls from the hallway. “When do you think we can get someone in to look at that blocked toilet?”</p><p>Asha presses her hands to her temples. “I don’t know at the moment.”</p><p>“It’s getting to be a real problem, though—”</p><p>“I said <em>we can’t get anyone in</em>, Theon!” Asha snaps, thumping her fist against the wall. Theon goes quiet from the other side. </p><p>She sits down on the bed heavily, ignoring the creak of ageing mattress springs. Their situation has spiralled from bad to worse in a matter of months: her rent extension is impending, Theon has just got made redundant from his job as a shop assistant, and Asha lost her last bit of income a few weeks ago. It seems impossible that they’ll be able to keep on living like this unless they go to their family for a handout. And Asha and Theon are both far too proud to ever do that. </p><p>She stands up, and checks her phone reflexively. There’s nothing from any of her friends (most of whom live comfortably in actual houses), and her social media has gone quiet ever since she lost her part-time thing at the bar. And as if to annoy her even further, it still says that her storage is full, despite there being barely anything on her phone at all. </p><p>“Hey? Asha? You okay?” </p><p>“Fine,” she says, even though she knows it’s a terrible lie. “What’s for dinner?” </p><p>“That takeout from a few nights ago.” </p><p>“Ugh. I hated that one.” </p><p>There’s none of Theon’s usual jackal laughter. “No choice.” </p><p>Asha groans. “I’ll be there in a minute.” </p><p>She goes into their shared and dimly, yellowy-lit bathroom, grimacing as the light flickers, and turns the squeaking tap. Wetting her hands with cold water, she splashes it on her face to try and rally herself. </p><p>The water doesn’t do anything for the stress lines on her forehead, or for the acne building up across her chin, but it does make her feel a little bit better. The tiniest bit. </p><p>Oh, who is she kidding. She turns off the tap and the lights, and goes into their kitchen for the terrible takeout. </p><hr/><p>Her phone rings about halfway through the plate of noodles and some brown sauce mixture of questionable origin that tastes foul. Both Theon and her immediately startle. </p><p>“What are you waiting for?” he hisses. “Answer the goddamn phone!” </p><p>Asha doesn’t recognise the number, and briefly wonders if it’s a prank call, but she doesn’t have the luxury of waiting. She presses the button to answer. </p><p>“<em>Asha Greyjoy?</em>”</p><p>“Yes, this is Asha Greyjoy,” she replies, gesturing for Theon to keep eating. “What are you calling about?” Best to get straight to the point. </p><p>“<em>My boss was wondering if you were available to fulfil a position for her.</em>” </p><p>Asha could scream <em>Yes, certainly</em>, at the phone in excitement, but they would probably hang up. Instead she asks “Who’s your boss, and what’s the position.” </p><p>“<em>We put out adverts a few days ago about hiring a new PR manager for Daenerys Targaryen, and a Tristifer Botley suggested your name.</em>” </p><p>Asha would usually want to kill Tris for this, but just this once, he’s delivered a miracle. “What does the position involve?” she asks, gripping the table in excitement.</p><p>“<em>Mr. Botley said you had past experience in journalism, correct?</em>”</p><p>“Yes,” Asha says, thinking back to her year with investigative journalism looking at her uncle, Euron Greyjoy, although she doesn’t see how it would be useful for an actress’s PR manager.</p><p>“<em>Then you’ll be of great help. You would be responsible for managing Daenerys’s public image, social media and the like, giving out statements to magazines, and working with the rest of the PR team</em>.” </p><p>To anyone else, it might have sounded intimidating, but to Asha with her debts beginning to stack up in front of her and out of options, it sounds like easy work. “What’s the pay?” </p><p>“<em>Initially fifty thousand dollars per year, although it may be increased depending on your skill</em>.”</p><p>“I’m in.” Asha says. She covers the phone and mouths at Theon: <em>Fifty thousand dollars! </em></p><p>Theon mouths back: <em>What?</em></p><p>Asha sighs, and turns back to the phone. “When do I start?” </p><p>“<em>We expect to see you at Star PR offices at nine o’clock on Monday</em>.”</p><p>“Alright—” Asha gets out as they hang up the phone. A giddy smile forms on her face.</p><p>Theon looks up from the noodles, slurping some into his mouth. “What was that about?”</p><p>“Theon. I have a <em>job</em>.” </p><p>“Really?” Theon’s eyebrows raise, then lower. “Never would have guessed. Good job, sis.” </p><p>“That’s not even the best part,” Asha pushes the disgusting noodles to one side to lean on the table. “It’s as a PR manager. A fucking PR manager. Which I have no experience with. I am going to positively kill Tris, then resurrect him again because I have a job thanks to him. But still, killing him would be cathartic.”</p><p>“Whoof.” Theon laughs. </p><p>“The pay’s good, at least. Better than what you get for your waitressing job.”</p><p>“I do not <em>waitress</em>.” Theon’s shocked expression is worth a million dollars. “I bring food to people.”</p><p>“Waitressing.” </p><hr/><p>Asha dumps her bike in the shelter nearby and undoes her helmet. A fine mist of rain mires the area around her, tiny droplets settling on the bushes that surround the shelter. </p><p>She grunts as she shoves the bike lock together, the metal pieces getting to be slightly dodgy from overuse. When she stands up, hair still damp from her cycle in the rain, she notices the other woman standing there. Her bike is at her hip, pink and covered in stickers of flowers.</p><p>Asha’s usual reaction would be to spit at the girl’s feet, but she is painfully aware of the fact that this is her only job and she needs to hold it down, so she sticks out a hand instead and says “Asha Greyjoy.”</p><p>The girl smiles, bubbly and bright. “Margaery Tyrell. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” </p><p>“Uh, you too,” Asha says. “Do you work at Star PR as well?”</p><p>“Yes,” Margaery nods, sending her hair into bouncing. “I work with the Baratheon family to make them look good.” There is a note of bitterness in her voice.</p><p>“And how is it?”</p><p>Margaery smiles and pushes her bike into the shelter. “I can’t disclose that,” she says, her voice professional and unemotionless.</p><p>A gag order. Asha starts to wonder what she’s got herself into. </p><hr/><p>Star PR is dizzyingly large, and Asha is constantly having to check the free map she got given to make sure that she is going in the right direction. She already knows that she will be late to the meeting, but that doesn’t matter: her biggest problem at the minute is finding her way around this place.</p><p>Asha accosts a man in the corridor. “Hey, you know where Room 127 is?” </p><p>He grunts out, “Fifteen doors ahead and the eighth one on the left.”</p><p>Asha nods back, and keeps walking, pace increasing. “Okay.”</p><p>She looks at the numbers as she passes by, going by in a blur. She goes past 127 initially, but turns around quickly and goes back to it.</p><p>Asha tucks her hair that’s fallen into her face behind her ears and takes a deep breath before she knocks on the door to be met with a stern “Come in!”</p><p>Asha does, opening the door cautiously at first. She pushes it perhaps a little too hard to get it all the way, as it bangs into something behind it, and closes it, trying to make less sound,</p><p>When she looks up, Daenerys Targaryen is staring at her. And she is the most beautiful woman Asha has ever seen. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>what did you think? lmk with comments and kudos they make my day</p><p>also i know this is totally unrealistic, but suspend your disbelief. weirder things have (probably) happened.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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